


I love you, i'm not gonna crack

by GingerHoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Acceptance, Homophobia, Love, M/M, Religion, blink and you'll miss him, hint of Harry, love you liam, sorry there's no Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerHoran/pseuds/GingerHoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Make a wish," he whispers with the delicate hair on his forefinger between Zayn's eyes, and with a roll of his eyes he does wish and even though he brushes it off as a childish pastime he wishes with a squeeze of his heart, and a pulse of blood. </p><p>He wishes hoping it'll come true.</p><p>or </p><p>where Zayn and Niall are irrevocably in love and fighting for acceptance in  a world of judgement and disbelief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you, i'm not gonna crack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Title Taken From Lithium By Nirvana
> 
> Amy,  
> This is a really random post, very much an experiment of mine that I've been working on for a while. Not much else to say really.

The smells were exotic, fumigating heavily in the air and burning through Zayn’s nostrils as he breathed in the scent of spices, each new aroma he could almost taste on his tongue. Home, he felt at home here, the densely packed overly warm and claustrophobic city, bright with life and culture – their language which was unknown to the blond boy sat beside him, was a familiar and pulsing tune through his veins. It made up the blood that pumped through his veins, his tanned flesh which contrasted beautifully against the creaminess of the angels, which flowed together like juxtaposition personified.

As the light faded, the city only became busier, the rowdy shouts of shopkeepers, the blazing smell of rubbish and the heavy heat that seemed to sit upon the city like invisible fog; cooling sweat mingling amongst the fragrant spices.

Both boys exhumed an exhausted sigh as they looked across the urban from the balcony of their dingy apartment, where the static of neighbour’s televisions never faded and the constant grumbles of Urdu were streamed through paper thin walls.

In the mornings the heat was always slightly unbearable, he could feel his cracked lips against his sandpaper tongue a pasty friction brought between the two, an unwanted taste merging into his mouth. Sweat pooled between his collarbones as his boneless limbs spread across the sheets, he fumbled for the curled small angel that was constantly pressed against his back during the night, a release from the dizzying heat.

He wasn’t there.

The haze and bitterness of smoke floated through the crummy balcony door and into the shabby apartment, small flies buzzing pesteringly around Zayn’s forehead. Flinging his limbs against the cool tiled floor, a pair of skeletal pale feet were balanced upon the wooden balcony beam, the ankles locked together a gold clasp around one, marking him with a shimmering shadow which lit up a glittery burning through Zayn’s topaz eyes. He was still layered with sleep, dazed in the sunlight, his limbs feeling too heavy attached like coals to his own slightly grimy feet.

Small giggles like melodic church bells rang through Zayn’s ears, the only type that could create the slight curve of his lip within an instant that blond head of hair lolled against the chair, eyes lazily half-lidded made up of a rolling ocean of stars.

“You like this don’t you?” Zayn says, complacently calm as he breathes in the addicting scent of life burning from the end of Niall’s fingers, the tobacco blending so perfectly you could miss it.

“Maybe,” Niall replies ever the unfathomable as his feet tap out a thrumming beat into the tottering wood which could topple at any given moment.

Zayn pulls a dirty, crumpled cigarette from his back pocket eyeing Niall with one eye as he lights the death stick. He lit the bud, held the cigarette between his teeth absorbing the burning smoke into his lungs as his eyes trailed wayward across the dawn broken sky.

Niall laughed a colourful laugh, something so sharp and poignant it teetered on the edge of insanity before pulling back slightly. Zayn hummed him a questioning look flicking ash onto the rotting floor, and wiggling his toes amongst the debris.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” Niall said as though an explanation, gesturing along the shacked scenery with a sweep of a wide arched arm. Zayn said nothing, carried on puffing that cigarette trying not to think too much – say too much. Sleep slowly dissipating like oxygen from his pores, feeling as though wings were sprouting from the base of his spine; as though he could fly.

“Yes. Maybe it is.” He finally croaked, clearing his throat and earning no more than a flittering glance from the boy facing the orange sky.

=

The sun was like an angry goddess in the sky, hissing her burning vengeance onto the simple mortals of the earth. Zayn, however, was wondering among the dusty marketplace in a pair of dog-eared trainers; thoughts more focussed on food and the bubbling hunger in his belly.

They sold an array of all objects here, all balanced haphazardly on wooden benches nailed together with years of rust. By a stand of fresh pomegranates lay upon a tatty green afghan, there was a small old woman wrapped up in white shawl sat atop a wooden stool eyes dark with age and sharp with knowledge.

“Good morning, my child.” She spoke with an exotic edge to her voice, something familiar and warm settling itself into the pit of Zayn’s stomach.

Zayn made quick eye contact, smiling in that soft way of his. It was easy to make friends without words, words were harmful and sour and damning and painful. Zayn knows this, he was harmed first hand by the sharpness of words, and is always wary of the poisonous tongue of another being.

 

 =

=

 

The bus was thumping along the road at a seemingly illegal pace, boys slammed forward into the plastic head rests with every curse of the driver, they were all bleary eyed and hung over, clearly not prepared for another day at school.  
  
"Aw _fuck_ this!" Zayn cursed as he once again hit his head on the plastic covering causing the boy in front to turn and cock his head at him questioningly.  
  
"What you doing?" He asked, squinting his eyes and popping his gum rather obnoxiously, his brown curly hair flopping over his head and sitting just above his eyelashes. He was rather good looking, with large emerald eyes that shone like precious stones and long fingers that he used to push back that curly hair that fell into his eyes.  
  
Zayn shrugged with a small smirk and the boy sighed at him, flipping him the bird before facing the front and trying to distract himself whenever Zayn purposefully thumped his chair forward with his knees; leaving them with little ringed bruises along the bone after hitting the hard plastic too many times.  
  
School journeys were always like this, full of catcalling, swears and minor riots; it was a miracle that the driver ever actually made it out alive to be honest especially when driving around a bunch of tired, hormonal teenage boys around at 7am.  
  
People shoved and pushed out of the bus when it stopped outside school, the yellow sign of the bus stop peeling and grubby, the driver huffed out a sigh of relief when the last boy clawed his way out slamming on the accelerator and speeding off without a second thought.  
  
"Malik!" Was the first thing Zayn heard, it was directed from a small boy sat atop the brick wall surrounding the school building, his tie undone and hair done up into a half-assed coif, eyes as blue as the arctic beckoning and willing.  
  
Zayn eyes him coyly and nodded once in recognition making his way over to the boy with a wide smile and those familiar butterflies flapping in his stomach, similarly Niall was feeling the same. Niall hopped off the brick wall, landing ungracefully on the dusty pavement besides Zayn his hair flopping to the left and only making Zayn smile wider with possession and smugness.  
  
"Hello sunshine."  
  
As usual Zayn pulled Niall into a tight hug, looking down at his dusty black Chuck Taylor's with a grin, before pulling back and placing a rather wet kiss on his cheek, the bell had rung and they were late for class, but Zayn didn't really give a shit.  
  
=  
  
"Mr Malik, where have you been?" Mr Warren drawls boredly he was used to these shenanigans with Zayn and had earlier realised that detentions didn't work because the boy simply didn't show up, but he got the grades so they had no compatible reason to exclude him.  
  
"Oh, I misinterpreted the time Warrens, I'm so sorry. But if you really want to know, I was snogging my boyfriend in the toilets. Is that a problem?" He said nonchalantly, without even a bat of his eyelashes before slamming his backpack into the empty seat beside him and sitting back, arms folded and eyes uninterested.  
  
Mr Warren blinked quickly as if to erase the memory, trying to bat away the urge to send the boy outside.  
  
"Well," he stuttered, and Zayn raised his eyebrows almost questioningly, his classmates watching with bated breath and rolling cameras. Clearing his throat he turned away from the class to face the black board again, and continued writing up the reasons why the Russian revolution started, the chalk unsteady in his hand.  
  
=  
  
The heat is pretty unbearable the sun like an embodiment ball of fire right above Zayn's zooming black Audi R8, the leather seats greasy and sticking to their clothes as they bounced along the dusty back roads of their small hometown.  
  
Nialls head was stuck out the window his pale blue eyes shining with unadulterated excitement, his white teeth glowing and his hair wiry as it peeked out of a bright pink snapback. He is mouthing  words to a song that's blaring from the radio, it's an old Nirvana track from the CD that Liam burned for Zayn, and he loves the way that Niall's shimmying his hip subconsciously with the wind flushing his skin.  
  
 _Fuck, he's gorgeous_ Zayn thinks.  
  
Then there's the loud rev of an engine from behind, it distracts Zayn for just a second, and he see the crazy blue eyes of a boy in the rear view mirror with a race on his mind and 200mph at his fingertips.  
  
"Hang on baby," he whispers, shifting the gear into forward and pressing onto the gas pedal. It's not all about speed, it's about control on those twisted bends and grip on the dusty side streets. And mostly about using the power he has to channel it straight onto the road, straight into that purring engine with the glossy surface.  
  
Feet shifted quickly from clutch to clutch, hands darting to shift gears and eyes flashing from the roads to glare playfully at the car behind or in front; it was game of rumbling engines and pounding heartbeats, the threat of spinning out of control or the feet of passing the point of all speed and into endless infinity. 

And it was _fucking_ exhilarating.  
  
The car behind was an orange beauty, nudging forward every few seconds and Zayn gritted his teeth knowing he was being played easy; the little fucker was letting him win.  
Niall was silent through the fast paced journey, watching how Zayn's concentration faded and his smirk wore and he slowed down so the orange Porsche sped in front before halting up beside an old bank.  
  
Zayn sighed quietly to himself staring over at Niall who was slumped in his seat fiddling with the buttons of the stereo, his snapback tilted to the side and his blond hair flattened out over his forehead.  
  
Fingers danced across his lips playfully, and before Zayn could look into those blue _blue_ sapphires and pull the boy into a heart squeezing kiss that would slowly bring air back into his lungs, a rapt set of knuckles on the driver window distracted them.  
  
Zayn rolled down the window, the boy with the steely eyes blinking at him quickly in the sun, those eyes becoming like a flowing ocean.  
  
"Lou, my man," he whispered as if he still wasn't in shock with the fact that his older brother had tried to let him win, if there was one thing that Zayn stood for it was that you should win graciously.  
  
Louis was more of a taker of chances, leaving the small town in the middle of Arizona on the Bible belt when he was 19 to head down the London to study drama, and get out of the rather tight knit and tight lipped community. He was living the dream that Niall had always slept with grasped in his fingertips, the one that seemed to constantly fray with every worried tug.  
  
Louis said that London was an expensive little city where people drove cars until the engines didn't break and where people had deep pockets and taut accents but he much preferred it to the Bible belt conservative town; where there were too many preachers and not enough dreamers.  
  
They go out for ice cream, buying it from the little convenience store that doesn't just sell boring cream vanilla but other less than traditional flavours in the overly traditional town. The only thing they're happy about is the fact that there high school is several miles south from their home town, where they're not so closed minded.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't bore you by asking how is school is or anything, just want to know how you're handling it all?" Louis says, licking the back of his spoon and rolling the chocolate flavour over his tongue, and gesturing with a jut of his chin to where Niall's leaning on Zayn's shoulder.  
  
Zayn sighs wistfully, he doesn't really know what to say, Louis the only person he has ever told about his sexuality and his relationship with Niall, the secret he's been burdening for the past year and a half. He doesn't really mind the weight on his own shoulder so much, only worried about how it's affecting the boy beside who seems to have become quiet and fidgety, biting his fingernails.  
  
Louis nods, doesn't say anything more, before tossing his pot and plastic spoon in the bin before speeding off in his car, the boys watching it blur into orange static.  
  
=  
  
"I don't think I can lie anymore."  
  
And Zayn nods in agreement but he doesn't know how Niall's parents will react, can't imagine the worst that they can do, just can't. It's all slightly muddled, disjointed and confusing you see, Niall's not religious at all, he doesn't believe in some all loving deity amongst the clouds but what he does believe is that parents should love a child no matter what, that's a faith.  
  
"Babes, just remember I've always got your back okay," waiting for those clear glassy blue eyes to flicker onto his own hazel ones, wanting them to be trusting. He waits for the quiet answer that eventually comes.  
  
"I know." He mutters quietly, hands gripping the door handle before looking over at Zayn who’s unsure of whether he wants to zoom off and hibernate in his room or stay outside Niall's house with a protective gaze.  
  
Instead he just leans in to press his lips against Niall's, a hard kiss almost like a reinforcement of his promise before pulling away with a soft smile.  
  
=  
  
"Where've you been?" Greg asks when Niall walks in, backpack slung over his shoulder and snapback tucked into the back of his jeans.  
  
"Just hung out with Josh and watched the rugby game," he says with a small internal wince at his lie. Greg's not a bad brother, in fact he's pretty far from it, he takes Niall out to Arizona on the weekends to get him into the city, where the buildings are a bit bigger and the people a bit friendlier and the atmosphere just more appealing, except Niall wishes it just were a little further. A few thousand miles further.  
  
His parents make it home quite late that evening after he's done his homework and glared at the stars damning the God he doesn't believe in.  
  
"Oh Niall darling, how was school?" His mother asks, her voice smug and cold just like everybody else in this godforsaken town; where they think you should be born with God tattooed into your heart.  
  
"Fine," he replies trying to keep his tone just as light as if he's not crumbling on the inside, as if he's not trying to ignore to hide the fact that he's a sinner ready to burn in hell with his parents less than willing to light candles for his purgatory.  
  
"Niall, how about you recite the creed for us this evening, it would be lovely."  
  
And Niall pauses, because he doesn't want to recite the damn creed, doesn't want to preach a religion that damns him to hell because he likes to kiss a boy that makes him happy, and makes him feels loved and warm.  
  
"Niall?" his father mutters eyebrows raised questioningly, his hands clasped above his plate, his blue eyes so steely and cold they make Niall freeze to his core.  
  
Then his father shakes his head out of disappointment and anger, sighing heavily before closing his eyes and reciting the statement of belief himself; and that's when the blood starts to poor from the wound in his chest, and he just needs the wound to be stitched up somehow. Dinner is to be silent and polite as usual, listening quietly and without interjecting. That’s how it’s always been in the Horan household. Niall's father spoke highly of the new priest and the new evangelical preaching group he had introduced, for the most part it skimmed right over Niall barely hitting a notch.  
  
But then their came a point where his father started rambling about those, _‘dirty homosexuals and their sinning acts'_ , and Niall couldn't bear to just sit and not argue his case, not  to flip over the table in hatred and point a finger to his father’s chest.  
  
He knows Zayn would, he knows that Zayn wouldn't hesitate to punch his fist straight into that jaw not caring about the fractured bones or flowering bruise but more about that fact that he knows that's he is not disgusting, he has a human right to love and kiss and make love to whoever he wants, and if it so happens to be a boy then so be it.  
  
Niall's not strong enough though, he's too fragile and delicate to deal with the words, the disownment, the emotional pain because it's already hard keeping in the fact that he's got a secret lover. And he's cursed by sins. It's already too hard to bear.  
  
All confidence of revealing himself falters in that instant because he feels alone, his parents unknowingly damning him to the fiery pits of brimstone without a bat of an eyelid, and it just shatters, that momentary flash of comprehension is gone into the chatter between his parents.  
  
=  
 _  
N: I just can't do it  
  
Z: Babe, it doesn't matter, I still love you okay? X_  
  
Niall sadly smiles as he curls into himself on his bed. Tucking his chin atop his pillow, and taking a long look at the message, almost absorbing it, before replying.  
  
 _N: I know x_

=  
  
Zayn's hands are lingering on his jawline, brown eyes soft and molten making him feel only peace, it's just them in the back of his car breathing and gazing, and occasionally kissing. Every touch leaves Niall stuttering on the edge of insanity, like a bolt of electricity flashing through his body quickly and then it’s gone but the aftermath leaves his skin tingling all over.

"I love you," Niall whispers letting their lips just linger together for that little bit longer, letting their breathes mingle into one before pulling apart with one last soft peck, Zayn's biceps burning from having to hover over Niall for so long, he invited the burn though as he looked down at the armful of earnest boy that was all his.

Normally he wouldn’t think that at such a young age he would feel such emotions, such attachment but he does and sometimes it’s consuming and messes up his mind but he can’t stop spinning on the roundabout of love, going faster and faster, dizzier and dizzier. Until everyone else is blurred and the only thing he can see clearly is _arctic blue._  
  
=

Twenty pages into the Harper Lee masterpiece, there's a distracting thump at the back of Niall's chair making the book fly out of his hands and land on its spine on the linoleum flooring of the canteen.  
  
"Uh-uh babes, don't start going all literature on me," Zayn grins, eyes golden with interest as he looks at the book previously in Niall's hand.  
"So?" He elongates, picking up the book and swinging his body into the chair beside Niall with a filthy smirk his immaculate black hair flopping softly over his forehead just like Niall loves.  
  
"Have you at least been introduced to Boo Radley yet?" He questions, eyebrow raised as he knows how bored Niall can get after several pages in a book, it's surprising he's made it so far.  
  
Niall grins toothily back, "Of course you douche, what a fantastic boyfriend you are." He mutters, pursing the air and pretending to kiss it before straightening up when the teacher walks in.  
  
Another fantastic thing about Zayn, Niall thinks, is that Niall can be gloriously depressed, everything seems to be concrete crashing around him but Zayn makes everything disappear makes everything blur so it's just them. The tip of the pen is being chewed between a pair of soft pink lips, hand unconsciously tapping out a little rhythm against the wooden table long eyelashes flashing down onto the piece of lined paper every few seconds to jot down quick notes about the documentary that's playing on the roll-in television.  
  
Niall's just sits beside the boy his fingers tangled together against the desk and cushioning his cheek as he gazes with sickly romance up at his boyfriend, the rolling film reflecting from his hazel eyes and his fingers itching to scratch at the sexy scruff on his marble sculpted jaw. The film clicks off and the teacher rambles on and Zayn writes more notes his face twisting up into a small smile as he feels the eyes burning into him.  
  
"Mr Horan, can you explain to me the relationship between Lennie and George?"  
  
Niall sits up rubbing his eyes staring straight towards the teacher with the cocked hip and disapproving look on her face.  
  
Zayn splutters out a tiny laugh lowering his head momentarily. "Is something wrong Mr Malik?" And he cuts himself off, looking up at the teacher through his eyelashes, she looks angry with her chest heaving and her eyes narrowed.  
  
"Detention, both of you, after school." She snaps with a click of her heel as she makes her way to the whiteboard to scribble down tonight's essay due in for the Tuesday lesson.  
  
  
"Get me a ham sandwich and a bottle of orange." Niall asks with half a grin once they reach the cafeteria at lunch.  
  
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Sure Ni, get us a table outside.”

Its summer so most students flutter to the grassy fields during the lunch hour, the teachers are always on the look out of troublemakers though, strict bunch of snob asses really.  
  
He sees Liam by the water fountain hair swiped across his forehead and arms lingering closely to a pretty brunette with a narrow figure. Liam spots him a wide smile breaking out across his face, hands making quick motions for him to come over.  
  
"Not seen you for a while mate." Liam says eyes glittering like a happy soul, Zayn just nods recognising the fact that he hadn't really been out on the party scene since Niall, used to drink until the world was hazy and his clothes reeked but now he just likes settle at home with chocolate buttons and the Facebook chat to Niall pages long.  
  
"Yeah I'm sorry about that Liam, I've been busy this term." He replies with a soft smile, grabbing his tray and waving a quick goodbye to the boy. The suns blinding outside and he can just about make out Niall leaning back against a tree a knee folded as he braids grass together with his fingers.  
  
Niall sips the orange slowly eyes flickering up now and then to Zayn whose dusting off fallen crumbs from his jeans with swipes of his hands, the sun reflecting gorgeously off of his skin and making his hair appear a lovely light sun brown.  
  
"Maybe I should just run." He whispers lowering his gaze to his converses that are pushing back and forth through the grass. Zayn laughs nervously looking over at the boy before lowering his sandwich onto the plastic tray and crawling over to him.  
  
"Don't be so rational," he mutters quietly swiping a few fingers through soft blond hair and tipping up Niall's chin so his head falls against the tree bark to place a soft, quick little kiss onto his lips. It doesn't reassure Niall like it should do, he doesn't believe anything will, the only thing that can make him believe everything's going to be okay is acceptance. But that's never going to happen, and it's scary, _very scary_.  
  
  
  
When Niall met Zayn he knew he was in trouble, the boy was quiet often brooding prettily out of the window in the Maths lessons and doodling in the margin of his Science notebook. Niall thought nothing of him at first because at the beginning he'd thought he liked girls and their long hair and short dresses. But then Zayn started to come alive, he started to look Niall over make him feel vulnerable and naked but not in a bad way. It was a mistake that first kiss at the Christmas disco, cliché as hell when their lips met underneath the mistletoe that hung on the door of the boys’ bathroom.  
  
" _Shit_ ," Niall whispered as he pulled away and Zayn furrowed his eyebrows watching the boy run down the hallway. He scraped at his lips with his fingernails once he got home feeling as though the eyes of the angels hung on the wall of his bedroom were staring at him, straight into his black soul. He froze when his mother walked in with a glass of milk and plate of cookies thinking that she'd seen him at the disco and was ready to punish him for the sin he'd committed.  
  
She didn't though just smiled tightly and asked him about the pretty girls and their pretty pink dresses, and if he'd asked out Marian from across the road, the girl he'd been crushing on for the past 2 years. But he only shook his head quickly, saying he was tired.  
  
Everything that night seemed to come together in truth but shatter apart in realisation. And tears dribbled down his face hot and wet and frightened as he tried to shut out the clawing room.  Tried to shut out the truth.  


They'd all go to church on a Sundays and Greg would groan about missing football practice but a stern look from their father always stopped him, Niall would often enjoy church though but this time stood beside his mother in the pews he felt cold, like he was being watched by unseeing eyes and like the devil was hot in his heart. The priest would preach and his mother would sing and he felt like crying, like watching his own corpse burning in front of his eyes.  
  
Weeks went on and he tried to ignore the brown eyed stare at school but it was difficult, he seemed to be everywhere. Outside the small ice cream Shoppe in the small town an older boy beside him sucking on a cigarette with shaggy cinnamon hair and electric eyes. He was always in the car park reading a dog-eared novel and chewing on gum, eyes trailing like bullets up Niall's body before sending him a soft smile.  
  
It was months later that Niall couldn't help himself from approaching the boy in the hallway, he wasn’t aggressive or questioning in anyway just confused; he felt small like a little child so the only way to make himself feel bigger was to approach the problem like a man.

Zayn's one of those people who asks a question several times just to get an answer he thinks is suitably up to his standards, it's immature and annoying, but that's just how he is. So when he asks Niall why he ran, ran away from his problems, he doesn’t think that the suitable reply is a heavy shrug of his shoulders. He wants more, you see because he was far more indebted into the situation than Niall it wasn’t just clashing thoughts on the line it was his heart.

“I don’t think I can.” He replies softly like a mother telling her child about death, trying to explain the situation in a way that doesn’t bruise them or scare them. Unfortunately for Niall he’s not a child without bruising and he if Zayn is refusing to leave him alone he doesn’t know what to do, these small feelings bubbling up in his stomach are only going to grow and it’s daunting.

_“Why?”_

And it’s now Zayns turn to be silent. Because if he were to be truthful, completely _honestly_ truthful, then he’d tell Niall that he had been in love with him since the beginning of high school; since the moment the boy had walked into his English class eyes, blue and nervous, hair curled round the edge of his blue snapback in thick blond tufts. At first it hadn’t hit Zayn. But then it had started to grow that infatuation with his looks, that fondness of his laughter and words, that softness in his motions and bright pulsation he shined everywhere. And Zayn just fell with no strings holding him back, no hesitation as he fell into the warm, glistening pools of Niall.

Zayn wasn’t ready to reveal this fact yet, blamed the fact that he was much too _pussy_ to do so, always had the upper hand in every other situation but never when it actually mattered, another fatal flaw to his perfect soul. So it almost felt like he was getting his own back when he ran down the corridor and it made him a hypocrite but he was sure that was better than getting his heart broken into two.

=

Zayn likes to call Louis in times of selfish neediness, in the times where his parents don’t really seem to suffice, in the times where he really just needs to talk to his _brother._

He picks up after the third ring. “Hello?”

It has been a while, well if two weeks count, but no one’s ticking off the dates on a diary.

“Zayn? Buddy I’m not going to kill you for ringing me, unless it’s something horrifically dirty that I really don’t want to know about.” Louis laughs.

Zayn is silent for a few more seconds, contemplating how to word his next sentence without sounding like a regular rebel teenager.

“No, everything’s alright. I just want to ask how you got away,” he says scrunching up his eyebrows up at how utterly stupid he just sounded.

“Zayn,” and for once Louis puts some sort of warning into his voice, he knows when Zayns going on some reckless run, when emotions are running high and when he just wants to throw himself off a _fucking_ building. It’s perfectly normal.

“No Louis! I’m just fucking done alright,” he chokes out, the walls breaking around him, that constant calming mantra that kept out the slashing waters crumbling and causing everything to fall.

=

Days are mundane around the little village and they have to be careful about who they see and how much attention they zone in on themselves. A little rumour spreads like wildfire around here and it makes Zayn grit his teeth and hate the place a little more, the way there’s no privacy or freedom, the littlest wrong move and suddenly they’re the teen hooligans.

Niall’s silent. He doesn’t know how much there last conversation affected Zayn and the thoughts that are littering his brain, but he knows something’s up, _knows_ something is wrong.

So when up ahead he sees a little alcove surrounded by shadows he doesn’t hesitate to pull Zayn into it when they walk past. They’re now both pushed up against the brick wall in the shadows with Zayns breath hot and shivery as it hits Niall, his eyebrows raised in questioning.

“You’ve been thinking about it haven’t you. About what I said,” Niall says hot and rushed out like excitement on his tongue, because the last thing he wanted to do was worry Zayn like this but he wants to get away, now, want to live.

Zayn nods once, looking down so he doesn’t have to face those blue eyes, because Niall doesn’t look like one, but he is a bloody _mind reader_ at times, like those blue orbs catch every passing thought that float along the river of hazel.

After a few more minutes of silence on one part, and internal struggle on the other, he simply nods his head. This leaves Niall grinning like a fool, that little ball of sunshine igniting in his arms and bringing back the warmth all over his body. Being truthful, Niall knows that Zayn wears his heart on his sleeve, and although he won’t admit it he’ll anything for him, absolutely anything.

For the short time they’ve been dating it’s weird how much they now about each other. Zayn’s already memorised the way Niall lips move against each other when he speaks, chapped and brushing. The way he blinks fast and scrunches his eyes when he’s confused or anxious. It’s always the same, comforting and steady, and he doesn’t want anything to change.

When he wakes the next morning in the back of Zayn’s car which has become a second home for them, almost, its askew with paper wrappers and rubbish but it’s so familiar to Niall, so cosy and warm. Zayn knows that Niall’s worried when his eyes blink fast and blurring so the blue darkens and the flesh pales.

“Shit,” he whispers, because he’s supposed to be at home, sat at the breakfast table with his parents but he’s not, instead he’s curled up in his boyfriends crumpled leather jacket and smelling of the cigarettes that Zayn chain-smoked as they drove up onto the grassy hills looking over the town, watching the sun set bright and early and the stars pop out like shining diamonds. They drowned out each other’s sorrows by telling each other their dreams, their hopes for the future, as they wait for the day they feel good, the day they stop _lying._

Niall just laughs loud and shimmery in the morning air, because he really doesn’t care anymore because _what’s the point?_ He’s leaving soon, can’t wait to grow wings and clasp his dream and fly instead of falling and being insincere to himself.

“Are you sure?” says Zayn interrupting the thoughts and hysteria that are threatening to consume Niall. 

Niall is barely blinking awake though, easily dodging the question to sit up and roll down the window, breathing in deep and slow like he has been suffocated. Maybe he is eating himself up on the inside, everything’s so confusing and glaring that he can’t seem to make up his mind.

Looking up, resting his chin on his elbow and letting the sun hit his face from the side, he can see the way Zayn is chewing his lip and waiting, waiting for an answer.

But he’s back at the beginning. Everything’s just so _confusing._

=

 

Zayn swore he saw flickering lights behind his eyelids causing an unwanted burn to his retina, he scrunched them shut tightly letting out a groan as he rolled over. Niall was next to him wearing a dopey smile, like his mind was drifting on an unknown high, dreamlike and crooked.  
  
There were lights, headlights from the indicating car behind them, that familiar burnt orange colour darkened in the cloudy night sky with pelting rain. Zayn's barely blinking away sleep but Niall's teetering over the edge of excitement, there's still a voice in the back of his head saying 'it's all a mistake' but he just wants to get away.  
  
Zayn doesn't move at first, face questioning and eyes darting to examine Niall's face, every inch of it. Any sign of apprehension or worry and there out, they're not running away they're going to stay and live it out. But Niall's face is stoic and he's hiding every emotion, and Zayn knows it's going to crack but when it doesn't Zayn won't be able to deal with the heartache.  
  
"I'm not going to change my mind," he whispers softly blue eyes downturned as he plays with a loose thread on his sweater, rolling the soft material between his thumb before looking back at the car behind them. Zayn doesn't believe him, but then again he isn't the one living the lie, it's not him whose lying to those he cares about the most. There's someone that Zayn can tell and vent out his anger to, Niall's got no one.  
  
Sucking in a breath he rubs his rough hands over his eyes trying to erase sleep, he quickly unfolds himself out of the way he was curled up into the leather seats smelling cigarettes and noticing the ash dusted across Niall's blue jeans and the blunts overflowing the cup holder, the red rings around Niall's eyes indicating what he's been doing for the past few hours.  
  
But before Zayn can shake his head and say anything, there's a rapid knock against the window and though they're both expecting it, they both jump.  
  
He looks like a crumpled mess, beanie tucked over his greasy hair, eyes red with exhaustion and fingers twitching with the urge for nicotine. Zayn laughs shortly, they all look a mess.  
  
"Lou?" He says simply, he had recognised that car and he knew but somehow he's wondering how he got here anyways.  
  
"California. I was in California, yeah?" Louis says exasperatedly fingers tightening on the ridge of the glass, body rigid and eyes vulnerable with sleep, a dangerous mixture.  
  
Zayn shakes his head hair flopping against his forehead as he pulls on his boots and does the laces, the rain lashing against the car and Louis soft cursing.  
  
" _Fuck_. Hurry up." He says stomping his foot as the rain pummels louder, the cold wet drop sliding down the opening of his jacket and making his back shiver up.  
  
Zayn flips him off hands running across the floor as he tries to find his leather coat. Niall's been silent all this time but tugs on Zayn’s hood as he bends down fingers scrambling and heart racing, as that bloody jacket is his favourite thing in the world.  
  
"It's alright babe, I've got it on." Niall whispers, and he has, draped over his bulky shoulders and hanging off his wrists, and it's looks good, _really_ good.  
  
"Hurry up." Louis whines, and when Niall's laughs airily he storms off across the road the slamming of his car door so hard it’s heard from the inside of Zayn’s.  
  
Zayn knows that Louis is quite possibly looking but he wants a last kiss off Niall, because if there's one way that Niall can't lie it's from his lips, those soft supple lips that Zayn knows by heart. That gentle curve as it slides dryly over his, that constant sweet taste as Zayn dips into the warmth with his own tongue, it's warm and familiar, its home.  
  
This time though Zayn's a little bit gentler not wanting to push the boy too far or lead into anything else. Just a kiss. And that's what he does leaning over the seat and placing a soft kiss on his lips, so soft in fact that for Niall it feels like a feather lay upon his angel bows, brown eyes molten as they stare down at him. Hands wrapping around his waist, a head on his shoulder making his feel safe and secure as usual.  
  
"Thank you," he mutters quietly with a swipe of a fallen eyelash from Zayn's face.  
  
"Make a wish," he whispers with the delicate hair on his forefinger between Zayn's eyes, and with a roll of his eyes he does wish and even though he brushes it off as a childish pastime he wishes with a squeeze of his heart, and a pulse of blood.  
  
He wishes hoping it'll come true.

=

“Just don’t get into any trouble while I’m out.” Louis says, turning abruptly and walking to the door, but before he left he turned around glared at the sleepy couple eating cereal on the sticky couch, making motions to his eyes before slamming the door as he walked out with a little whistle.

 

Niall's blushes from head to toe, like little rose buds flowering all over his body, popping open over his flesh leaving it rosy coloured and hot to touch. Zayn just stares at all its gloriousness, broad shoulders and thin hips, meaty thighs and piercing eyes.   
  
"You could've done this a long time ago." He says in a slow, soft way an eyebrow arched as he crosses his arms across his chest in a protective almost embarrassed way.   
  
Zayn doesn't say anything, just stares at the boy for a long moment as if debating what he's going to say. "Sure I could've. But I didn't. I waited instead," he answers truthfully crawling across the bed and placing his hands over Niall's so he's simply hovering.   
  
Niall stares up shyly lashes extended and eyes glossy, Zayn thinks he looks beautiful from this angle, pretty. And Zayn's always been a damn sucker for pretty things.   
  
  
Louis comes home that night with bags of greasy chips, the London wind having been whipping through his hair leaving his face ragged and tired-looking. They sit at the table all soft, tired limbs and fluffy pyjama bottoms, curled onto the breakfast bar stools as they grease their fingers with ketchup.   
  
"You didn't get up to no good did you?" Louis asks face cruel in the most humorous way, and its times like this where Zayn will be eternally grateful that Louis bats for his team otherwise these situations would be extremely awkward.   
  
"Of course not," he grins dirtily throwing Niall a suggestive wink as he wiggles his eyebrows like a comic book villain.   
  
Louis laughs bright and loud throwing an arm around Zayn's shoulder. "Well done bro."   
  
Niall's never blushed harder.   
  
=  
  
Niall goes to bed early, Zayn wasn't surprised he looked very much shattered throughout the day.  
  
They both sit on the tiny couch mugs of tea in their laps burning through the material of denim to heat up their skin.   
  
"You really do love him don't you?" And it comes out as more of a question with Louis's head tilted and eyebrows arched and the mood all around them changing from something cosy, to something more serious.  
  
Zayn blushes thankful for his dark complexion as the heat rushes to his face. "I think so, yeah."   
  
Louis smiles so wide there are crinkles by his eyes, but there still that hint of hesitation hidden beneath those greying slates. Zayn is his little brother and he knows how quickly you can believe that you're truly in love at that age, your heart is extremely gullible, and he just wants to make sure.   
  
Zayn sees it before he's meant to, that sliver of anxiety and disbelieve and is possibly angers him more than it should. "Lou, you don't understand," he grits out with hard dark eyes, clenched fists as though he's ready to attack-- but physically he's drained.   
  
"You're right, I don't." He amends apologetically but it can't just be forgotten by Zayn he overthinks things too much and suddenly Louis’ thoughts become a reality and he finds himself walking to the door, turning to give Louis a second burning glance before leaving.   
  
The slam of the door reverberates against his skin as he slides down it landing hard on his ass at the bottom. It's a dark shivery greying all around the London sky that he can see, honestly he doesn't like the big city there's too much light and life and he prefers the dead of night where it's just you and the night sky.   
  
He flickers his lightly unsuccessfully for a few seconds his hands trying not to give up from the biting cold. Exhaling sharply when he blows out the smoke, closing his eyes and letting his head clear it feels wrong. Filling his lungs with deathly poisons and curbing that urge but it just feels so good, _so fucking good._ Killing himself slowly.   
  
He walks aimlessly round the area for a while trying to familiarise it all with himself but then the glistening buildings just blur together making him feel dizzy with it all; the new places and the new people.   
  
=  
  
Zayn finds himself counting the constellation of stars on Niall's back, a splatter of freckles in the curve of his neck and the crevice of his shoulder blade.   
  
"Zayn?" Niall's mutters sleepily in a voice that's familiar and drawling and curls up into the base of his stomach like a puddle or warmth. And Zayn laughs like it's easy, as though everything isn't confusing but clear.   
  
Niall starts to turn around in the bed staring unblinkingly at Zayn with those eyes that he fell for blue and delicate, his hand reaching over into the empty bed space and clawing into the material _: get into bed you asshole.  
_  
Zayn hums tenderly crawling along the bed, pulling the boy closer with a heavy hand on the ridge of his spine keeping him stagnant, and his breath hitches as little wet kisses are dropped on each patch of sensitive skin and over each protruding bone. Zayn worships his body like a temple, breathing hotly and savouring every slight shiver it erupts alongside the tiny little mewls that Niall can’t quite keep down. It’s almost like a torment building up to immersing pleasure, both drowning in a sea of love and neither trying to swim away, they’re just floating with their hands connected and waiting for the last bubbles of breath to burst.

 

=

 

He’s lighting up his third cigarette of the morning, he blames it on the fact that everything’s just becoming confusing lately and he doesn’t know what to trust, when he’s interrupted.

 

“Zayn, you’ve been pretty distant lately.”

 

And Zayn laughs contemptuously almost meanly and it makes Louis cringe in on himself, but Zayn doesn’t regret it at all as he’s still full of anger, furthermore he brings the cigarette to his lips for another scolding puff as his reply, flicking the ash into a tray with his index finger bent towards his thumb.

 

“You can’t ignore me forever. Ma’s been ringing, she’s worried,” he sighs and it’s not just a lie to trick his brother into speaking to him. But Zayn just ignores him staring stonily out of the window, he doesn’t like it here at all, the head-craning skyscrapers and the clouded skies at night. There aren’t any stars here, no assemblages he can rearrange that dance across the inky sky guiding Niall’s across the dark blue and teaching him everything he knows.

 

Louis just stares at the back of his head for a while admiring how hard he’s trying but it’s got to crack soon, this hard façade that covers the delicate soul inside, because Zayn is breakable just as everybody else is and Louis doesn’t want to be left with picking up the pieces partly as he’s a selfish _fuck –_ but a heart isn’t easy to sew back together, Louis knows, he’s still fixing his own.

 

“Fine.” Louis says with no degree of bitterness but a flicker of his eyebrows as the shower mutes in the next room and Niall cracks open the bathroom door, steam pouring out like water into the room and Louis can’t deny that Zayn simply softens turning to look with those doe eyes at the door.

 

=

Zayn finds himself stuffing all his belonging into a bag one night, before _he_ actually realises it, he’s comatose, in the middle of sleep and awareness which is a pretty vulnerable state to be in.

Niall’s sleeping all lax hair and curled limbs, but Zayn’s in pain for weeks, months, _years._ Every look that Louis’ been giving him has been stabbing into his veins like a thousand sharp needles, and he feels ridiculously stupid for ever believing that his brother would help him.

Zayn feels horrible for shaking the boy awake, taking the way Niall look at him like the world has just ended with a swallowed tongue. _Now’s not the time to start anything,_ he thinks to himself hushing Niall with a press of his index finger to his lips ignoring the way he looks quizzical and susceptible in his lethargic state.

Zayn kisses Niall’s hand softly, lightly out of sheer reassurance before pulling him out of the bedroom, luggage in hand. But as they near the front door it knocks against the sideboard, Zayn flinches and Louis’ bedroom light flickers.

“What are you doing?” Louis says, his eyes zeroing in on Niall like a culprit, hands on a cocked hip but the look on his face is unforgiving.

“Zayn, I’m not _fucking_ about. Tell me now!” he shouts so loud you can almost hear the whole building shake with the temper in his voice and eyes burning so brightly with anger it makes the words dry in Zayn’s throat, the words he practiced with shaky hands in the mirror die like his confidence.

Louis steps forehead walking with fast paced steps, pushing past Zayn to grab at Niall’s forearm angling his body so that Zayn wouldn’t be able to shove his way forward.

 

“You think I’m stupid. You’ve _fucked_ with my brothers head, he was fine before but look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined his life. You _bastard_ , you-,”

Zayn didn’t hesitate to throw a cracking punch in his direction, staring down at his brother on his knees cradling his bloody jaw with his hand for a few seconds, before telling Niall to take their stuff downstairs, to wait for him. Louis looks regretful for a moment, and its ironic Zayn thinks, because he should be the one feeling guilty but he can’t find it in himself.

“You’re making a mistake,” is the last thing Zayn hears as he leaves, and it sounds broken and weak because there’s no bitterness behind it.


End file.
